


Catch A Falling Star

by bluesailor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Feels, Episode: s11e21 All In The Family, Fluff, Gen, Samulet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:45:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6845638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesailor/pseuds/bluesailor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to 11.21 All In The Family. Dean doesn’t put the necklace back on, even after Chuck stops its burning with a lazy flick of his finger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch A Falling Star

**Author's Note:**

> I never got around to writing a Samulet fix-it before the show took away the need for them, but I figured I could at least write this.

Dean doesn’t put the necklace back on, even after Chuck stops its burning with a lazy flick of his finger. For a moment he just stares at it where it rests on his open palm, the afterimages of its white-hot glow flashing at him every time he blinks. It makes the amulet look wrong, the little bronze face somehow more alien than it ever was before, so instead of putting it around his neck he just tucks it quietly into his pocket, and leaves it there. He knows Sam is watching him, looking for it; he’s happy, bright and bubbling in God’s presence, but his eyes keep straying over to Dean, sliding from Dean’s face down to the spot where the amulet used to hang against his chest, and he falters a little when he sees nothing but bare fabric there.

Dean doesn’t look at the amulet again until much later, when he’s retreated to the kitchen because it’s the only place in the bunker where he can’t hear Chuck’s singing. He reaches into his pocket somewhat tentatively, half-afraid it will start burning again—there’s a red oval on his palm where he was holding it before—but when he gets ahold of it and pulls it out it just sits there, cold and dull in his hand. He’s still staring at it when Sam walks in, carrying a couple of empty coffee mugs and a plate full of crumbs from where he must have been camped out in the library. He pauses when he sees Dean, and his eyes flick towards the amulet and away again, as if he’s trying to avoid looking at it.

“You had it the whole time, didn’t you,” says Dean, as Sam moves past him to put his dishes in the sink. “You fished it out of the trash and kept it.”

One of Sam’s mugs slips out of his fingers and clangs loudly against the side of the sink. Sam rights it meticulously, stacks his other dishes gently next to it, and then turns to face Dean. He’s flushed, his hands gripping the edge of the counter behind him, but he meets Dean’s eyes. “Yeah, I did,” he admits softly.  

Dean chuckles, rolling the amulet back and forth across his palm. “I should have known.”

Sam seems to relax at that, enough that he’s smiling as he walks over to sprawl in the chair across from Dean. “Kind of amazing, huh?” he says. “God crashing at our place.”

“Annoying, more like,” grumbles Dean. “You know he ate the last piece of pecan pie? I was saving that.”

“Well, he is _God,”_ says Sam, with a shrug. “The Creator, and all that. He’s probably entitled.”

“It’s not like he _owns_ us,” says Dean. “He’s got no right to come into our place, and eat our food and—and—” Dean huffs a breath, suddenly winded with the same gut-punch feeling he had after that first conversation with Chuck. “And he’s especially got no right to say anything to you about setting Lucifer free.”

Sam just shrugs again, entirely too calm. “Wasn’t anything I haven’t heard before.”

Dean flinches, his hand clenching hard around the amulet. The cold points of its little horns dig into his flesh, and he opens his fist again just enough to let it clatter on the table, the same way it clattered into the bottom of a trash can so many years ago. “Sam," he begins, "I—”

Sam flaps a hand, as if to wave away the words hovering unspoken in the air between them. “Anyway. Point is, it can’t hurt to give the guy a chance,” he says. “You know, have a little faith.”

Dean reaches out, picks the amulet up off the table, and rolls it around his palm again, considering. It seems warm on his skin this time—a friendly warmth, not the harsh burning of before—and the bronze winks and gleams in the bright light of the kitchen. “Were you ever gonna—you know.” Dean gestures vaguely. “Give it back?”

Sam’s eyes are fixed on the charm in Dean’s hand, but at this, they lift to meet Dean’s. “Only if you wanted it.”

Dean’s fingers close over the amulet again, gently this time. He makes sure Sam sees when he tucks it back into his pocket.


End file.
